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twenty seventh june | noon
Peckin' lightly
Checking my referrals this morning, I misread a google search for "Strom Thurmond's diet" as "Strom Thurmond's died". "Gosh, wouldn't that be something!" I thought, my eyes as big as Judy Garland's and my curls as bouncy as Shirley Temple's.
If this is the only wish I'm granted this month, I want it back.
I mean, fuckit, the guy was retired. I'd just like to thank Trent Lott for his ability to put a size 16 New Balance in his mouth, or else the posthumous lionizations would probably be much worse (like I'm going to read them anyway). Someone's great-great-great-grandpa is dead and for that I'm sad, I guess.
It was the sodomy what done it. (Joke totally stolen from someone else, but who cares, it's still funny.)
Last night I had one of those dreams where I was listening to a song, except the song in the dream wasn't the same as the song in real life. The song in question was � speaking of 100 year old Southerners � REM's "So. Central Rain", which I haven't heard in forever, and the only REM I have is a CDR of Murmur/Chronic Town, so I put that on this morning at work and remembered how much I like their early stuff. M. Stipe is an absolutely atrocious lyricist, and it kinda sucks that he got better as a singer as they got worse as a band, but those early records have a great Pannish creeping-vegetation-taking-over-the-city sound to them I like. Other good, neglected (?) Remsongs: "Feeling Gravity's Pull", "Harborcoat", "Laughing", "Life & How to Live It", "Time After Time" (?), "Get Up", "Low" (which also has a great artsy painterly video). I don't think I've heard anything after Monster. Their rhythm section is by far the best thing about them aside from the Hannettish production on their records (the bass/guitar interaction is very Hook/Sumner � were they ever explicit about their JD debt? Everyone yells "Byrds!" but I've never heard it, aside from the Rickenbacker, which was used by like, 8000000 60s bands), so when Berry quit I closed whatever little corner of my eye that still followed them. Though Buck throwing yogurt around on that plane a few years ago was pretty funny. He used to come into the little arthouse movie theater I worked at in Seattle, and was always very rockstar aloof (sunglasses indoors! in a movie theater!) and semi-rude. He cut in front of me in line at a Radiohead show once too, the fucker.
Insilico's Raiments: Very kindergarteny-looking polo shirt in McDonald's colors, same jeans as on Wednesday, last clean pair of underwear, birks. Doing laundry may keep this category sputtering along for another week, tops.
Reading: Nathanael West; Ursula K. Le Guin, The Left Hand of Darkness
Rereading: Zinn's American history book, to prepare for my trip. My high school AP history class used this for a textbook! Also not unrelated to the trip, E.P. Thompson's The Making of the English Working Class (heavy on the Paine).